


Guyliner

by RedLaces



Series: Lovely Little Ficlets: Life coaches [6]
Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLaces/pseuds/RedLaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was rudely interrupted by a hand in his face. After half a second of pure confusion he saw the hand was holding a small black pencil.<br/>“Hey John,” Hero’s voice was alive with excitement as she dropped her bag beside him and flopped down on the grass. “Say hello to your new best friend for the next seven days.”<br/>“No,” The word fell out of John’s mouth like it was part of breathing. “Not guyliner, please.” he looked her in the eye, shaking his head erratically. “I did not sign up for guyliner!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guyliner

“John, I’m not sure I want to go through with this.” Hero tried to keep her face neutral as she studied it in the mirror, mentally marking every pimple, red spot and grey bag as a discredit to her day. She in one hand she held her toothbrush, ready to finish off her morning routine, the other was stagnant in the air between her and the bathroom cabinet.

“Hero, you can do this.” John’s voice crackled through her phone set up next to the tap, reverberating in the sink. “It’s a good idea, and you’re going to feel stronger doing it.”

“How is not wearing make up going to make me feel stronger? Isn’t that a little internally misogynistic?” She broke the neutral expression.

“No, Hero, no you’re not backing out of this.” John commanded. “This was your idea. You’re 3am, out-of-the-blue phone call idea. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You answered straight away. I don’t know how much I could have actually bothered you.”

“No one is awake at 3am expecting company.”

“Oh,” Hero felt a chill on the back of her neck. “Sorry,”

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand.”

“Yeah, right!” Hero smiled plastically to the mirror. “Internal misogyny.”

“It’s not internal misogyny when we’re talking about you and you alone. If you feel that make up is something you rely too heavily on for a sense of confidence, then it’s a good idea for you to go a week without it.” He reasoned.

She moved her head left and right, considering his argument. “Maybe I’m making too big a deal out of nothing.”

“You make a bigger deal out of it by refusing.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She opened the cabinet and pulled out her make up bag. “I’ll see you at school in half an hour.” she ruffled through it for her concealer. Just a little bit couldn’t hurt, right? It’s not like John would-

She ripped the concealer from the bag, causing the entire thing to fall into the sink. Bottles, containers and brushes clattered around the porcelain bowl. Hero winced.

“Now, would that be your make up bag falling into the sink?” John sounded like Louise.

“...Possibly?” Hero admitted. “John, it was a stupid idea. I’ll see you at school-” She went to hang up when he screamed.

“WAIT!”

“Holy shit John,” Hero jumped back. “calm down.”

“What if... I did it too?” He groaned like he was about to have a tooth removed.

“What if, you didn’t wear make up?” Hero was confused. “I didn’t know you-”

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “What if, just for a week, seven days, I did?”

Hero’s eyes widened, and she smiled gleefully. “What are we talking? Lipstick? Mascara? Concealer? Foundation?” Her mind was overflowing with ideas and images.

“No! No, no, no, no, no. I need something quick and easy. I’m not about to spend an extra hour in the morning on something I’m totally new and therefore terrible at.”

“Okay, but it’s gotta actually be noticeable. You’re not gonna just cover up zits for a week.”

“Alright, alright!” John stopped her. “You get to decide, but only one thing! Come to school with no make up on, and bring something for me.”

“Alrighty!” Hero grinned. “See you at school!”

“Oh, I’m so going to regret this.” John whined.

“See ya!” Hero hung up.

-

John teetered nervously through the back gate of the school, passing the science labs in an eery silence. Nothing to be heard but the teeny, tiny squeaks of his chucks. He flicked his gaze, left and right, as if at any moment Hero might pop out from a locker, make up suitcase in hand, and attack him with various paints and utensils. So his knowledge of make up was preliminary at best. He went to an all boys catholic boarding school, his mother took off all her make up the minute she entered the house and he was pretty sure he’d only seen Bex’s bare face twice in his life. He probably wouldn’t recognise it if she walked down the street.

He turned left towards the football pitch, hoping to avoid his friend for as long as possible by going to the last place she’d think to find him: watching his half-brother run around kicking a ball at his friends.

He walked up the small set of stone steps and came out behind a set of cream demountables similar in design but not in colour to the year 7 ones he’d familiarised himself with the past few weeks. He walked quickly around them and walked onto a patch of green that stretched the entire way to the edge of the property, where a black metal fence stretched so high up John wondered if that had been there before, when this school had probably been a prison.

On the patch of green he spotted four of the school football teams ten players, and Hero’s older brother Leo, the coach, huddled in a discussion on the far side of the pitch. He quickly recognised Ben and Pedro, but failed to identify the two other, slightly shorter boys. Pedro stood next to Leo, filling his role of captain perfectly by nodding along to what the coach said, and occasionally interrupting with three word additions and some weird hand gestures. Leo seemed to appreciate him, but John couldn’t be sure how sincere that appreciation was. For all he knew Leo was seething on the inside at the absolute pigheadedness of Pedro Donaldson.

John just couldn’t be sure.

The younger boy slid against the side of the building, grateful that he’d come around the shady side and now sat in a comfortable morning chill. From here he watch the boys practice whilst still being pretty confident he wouldn’t be noticed by them. He unzipped his messenger bag, pulling out a small grey notebook that acted as his school diary, given that he’d already lost the one issued to him by his homeroom teacher. He pulled a pencil from the small pocket next to his bag and began to write out his day and what homework was due for every class.

He was rudely interrupted by a hand in his face. After half a second of pure confusion he saw the hand was holding a small black pencil.

“Hey John,” Hero’s voice was alive with excitement as she dropped her bag beside him and flopped down on the grass. “Say hello to your new best friend for the next seven days.”

“No,” The word fell out of John’s mouth like it was part of breathing. “Not guyliner, please.” he looked her in the eye, shaking his head erratically. “I did not sign up for guyliner!”

“Look at my face,” She gestured from her forehead to her chin. “Do you see a drop of make up on here? No! Which means I get to give you guyliner.” She grinned, but let it fall away in seconds. “Now, hold still.”

John sat as far back as he could, pressing hard against the tin of the building behind him, as if the extra centimetre of two was going to save him. It wasn’t.

Hero moved beside him, sitting up on her knees and tilting his chin upwards.

“This is the worst.” John complained, closing his eyes

“Be quiet, you baby.”

John felt the pencil poke and rub at his eyelid. He gripped at the grass, pulling it from the ground. She swtiched eyes, covering the second a lot faster.

“Okay, look up.” She ordered. He complied, and she pulled down on his eyelid, drawing across the waterline.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” He screeched, horrified.

“John, there are girls who do this daily. I think you can handle seven days.” Hero looked unimpressed.

“Alright, just get it over with.” He grumbled, looking up again.

She smirked. “Aye, Aye.”

-

The first day was torture. John felt like his skin was crawling as he walked the halls between class. Mr. Bennett, his english teacher, even laughed at him. Laughed at him! It was good-natured, sure, but still, uncalled for. Cora kept looking at him funny through their entire double period of biology.

But the worst part came at lunch.

“So, John.” Ben started. “How’s the pop punk band going?” He earned a couple laughs.

Hero took a slurp of her orange juice and looked to John expectantly.

“Oh, quite well, actually. We put your pre-order through on the weekend. You should have your fourteen copies of our cd and my three used tissues in six to eight working days.” He smiled.

“That was clever. And you made fun of Benedick.” A feminine voice came from behind him. “Whoever you are, we’re now friends.”

John turned around and came face to face with a tall girl in a Flight of the Conchords t-shirt.

Immediately her amused expression went from 6 to 11. “Hi!” She practically shouted. “I don’t believe we’ve met you’re wearing eyeliner.” She said all in one breath, moving her water bottle from her right hand to her left, freeing it so she could shake his hand. “I’m Beatrice”

“John,” he replied, remembering Hero reference the older girl as her cousin.

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Oh! Pedro’s brother.”

John pursed his lips together. “That’s me.” He turned back to the table, his gaze finding Pedro’s to give him the most murderous glare imaginable. “Pedro’s brother. I see you’ve heard of me.”

Pedro acted as if John had just found out he killed Bex 2.0. “Let’s spread over the two tables guys!” He all but sung. “It was getting crowded here anyway.”

“Yeah, plus it’s only going to get more crowded when the rest of John’s band shows up.” Ben snickered, picking up his books to move tables.

“We might even need to move to the grass if the rest of our groupies show up.” John retorted, staying at the first table but swinging his legs over to face the rest of the group. Hero did the same.

“Yeah, Ben, did they call ahead?” Hero added. John laughed and they high-fived. Bea noticed and gave Hero a look, which the cousin ignored.

“So guys,” Bea silenced the group. “Did you miss me last year?”

“Oh, desperately,” Pedro grinned, looking at Bea a little too long, John noticed, before focussing on his sandwich.

“Barely even noticed you were gone.” Ben contributed. Balthazar rolled his eyes.

“My mum wants to know if you’d like your dress back?” Meg asked.

“What dress?” Bea’s eyebrows knitted together.

“The one she had mended for you.”

Bea’s expression didn’t change.

“After you rolled down the hill in it, celebrating your victory over Ben in the final penalty shoot out of the Boxing day game.” Meg prodded.

Bea’s face broke out into a grin. “Ah yes, it’s all coming back to me now-”

“-You did not win!” Ben raised his voice, looking ready stand up despite being seconds into the argument. “I was distracted by the pretty-”

“-that’s still losing! You don’t get sympathy points for not being able to control your dick!” Bea shouted.

“Alright!” Pedro yelled. “Can we be civil? For one lunch?”

The two quietened down, momentarily.

“At least, I scored a goal in the actual game-”

“ARE YOU KIDDING-”

-

“Bye guys, see you tomorrow!” Hero and Bea turned off into their street, waving at the Donaldsons who continued towards home.

“So,” John started, and immediately Pedro recognised the direction of the conversation from his half-brother’s bitter tone. “Exactly how much of my sob story did you spill to Bea in your lovestruck haze?”

“John, I-”

“Did she get the PG version or…?” John looked earnestly upon his brother. Pedro’s face said what he couldn’t.

John shook his head. “Wow, you must be really far gone-”

“John, it isn’t like that-” Pedro tried.

“Then what is like, Pedro?” John shouted, pushing the tears back because this blonde asshole did not deserve them and fuck, he was wearing eyeliner. “Please explain to me what came over you that you thought you had the right to spill my private life to a fucking stranger-”

“I had to tell someone!” Pedro stopped walking, throwing his hand in front of John to stop him too. “It was eating me alive!”

“If it’s so ridiculously painful for you what the fuck do you think I’m going through?!” John screamed.

“John,” Pedro whispered, pleading with his eyes. “John, I’m sorry.”

The dark-haired boy took a shuddered breath. “You had no right, and no reason.” He went to storm off but stopped after two steps, turning back around and taking them back, so he was standing toe-to-toe with his brother. “You know,

“On my first day, when you shouted at me for being a dick to your mum I thought ‘there’s someone I recognise, there’s someone who I could potentially be friends, fuck even brothers with, someone who actually gives a shit.’ God knows how fucking wrong I was.” He breathed heavily, and Pedro couldn’t break eye contact. “You’re nothing but a selfish, blonde mini-action figure of your dad. And I wish it had been your mum instead of mine.”

He turned on his heel, his shoulder pushing into Pedro, which woke the older brother up.

Pedro pushed the shoulder back, knocking John onto his back foot. Fist clenched, he swung, knuckles connecting to jaw with a loud crack. John hit the ground, and Pedro realised what he’d just done.

“Fuck, John, sorry, fuck” He helped his brother up. John brought one hand up to his face, the other coming around Pedro’s shoulder.

“C’mon, we’re just a few streets up. I’m sorry,” Pedro repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

-

When Ann and Daniel ask him later who punched him in the jaw, John says they were mugged by a guy in a balaclava.

 

 


End file.
